


history throws its shadow

by humanveil



Series: and whoever calls the night a blanket, has never felt the cold [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cynicism, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Innocence, POV Eileen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Eileen takes Severus to Diagon Alley in early July, the act an attempt to avoid the usual back to school rush.Naturally, she runs into the very person she hadn’t wanted to see.





	history throws its shadow

Glass vibrates beneath Eileen’s touch, the surface scratched and uneven—like someone had had at it with a knife. The sun is out, bright and annoying. It filters in through the window, lights the underside of her eyelids to a reddish black, warms her flesh in a way she’s almost unused to. Like this, her unhealthy pallor is emphasised, her sickliness highlighted.

“How much longer?”

A sigh passes through her lips, the sound lost in the noise of the carriage—in the whispers of the other passengers, in the steady thrum of the train’s wheels moving against the tracks. It isn’t one of annoyance, but exhaustion.

“Soon.”

Severus huffs but sits back against his seat. Eileen cracks her eyes open to watch. He’s small for his age, she thinks. Thin and bony in all the joints of his limbs, sharp and hard in the lines of his face.

He reminds her of old photographs of herself.

“Can we stop at the apothecary?” His voice is tentative, like he knows he probably shouldn’t ask. “Just to look.”

Eileen suppresses another sigh. She loves Severus—really, she does. All things considered, she’s content with the child she has. He is curious and inquisitive, but intelligent enough to be cautious. Is talented and knowledgeable, but knows, now, when it’s better to simply keep his mouth shut.

It’s the excitement that is less enjoyable. The enthusiasm that is taxing.

Childhood optimism is something she has long since forgotten—something she knows Severus will forget at some stage, too. Everyone does, she thinks. It’s one of the few sure things in life.

“If you’re good,” she tells him, and she can see his eyes flash with something. A challenge, maybe.

Her thin mouth curls ever so slightly. Everything always did seem to be a challenge. She supposes Severus got that from her, too.

“Can we ge—”

“Severus.” Harsher, now. She cuts him off before he can finish, watches as his little body deflates, as the question dies on the tip of his tongue. She almost feels guilty. “We’ll be there soon. Be quiet for now.”

Another little huff, but Severus obeys. Always does, with her. Eileen is thankful, really. She knows he can be difficult when he wants to be.

She turns in her seat, moves to get a better look. He’s dressed in the best clothes she could find, and yet she still catches sight of a hole in his sweater. It’s just below his elbow, and when Eileen drags her eyes down to where a too-large sleeve has ridden up, she can see a purplish bruise curl around his left wrist, too. Like someone had held on too tight.

She reaches out, thin fingers pulling the sleeve down again, and says nothing.

There isn’t anything to say.

*

Stepping into Diagon Alley is like reliving an old memory, Eileen thinks. Familiar, and yet still surreal, still different. Severus trails behind her, wide eyed and fascinated, and it reminds Eileen of when she was his age, when it was her who hung off her father’s hip, when it was her who was wide eyed and fascinated. She’d been happy, she remembers. Eager to get out and finally start.

She also remembers how it hadn’t lasted; remembers how that eagerness had dissipated, slowly and steadily, until it had eventually eroded away to nothing.

Eileen sighs. School shopping—she wishes it weren’t necessary.

At least they’re alone, she thinks. She’d half expected the Evans girl to tag along, but thankfully she’d been wrong. She’s been watching them when she can, has even peaked into Severus’ mind when he wasn’t aware of it, and as much as he seems to enjoy the company of the witch, he doesn’t seem particularly fond of the rest of her family.

A good thing, Eileen thinks, as she’s in no mood to introduce a pair of muggles to magic.

“Where to first?” Severus asks, looking up at her with poorly veiled zeal. Eileen wants to smile.

“Gringotts,” she tells him. Her hand is on his shoulder, steering him in the right direction. “We’ve got to exchange money.”

She’s not up to date on conversion rates, but she doubts it’ll be much. Enough for robes and a wand, at least, which is all they really need. Books, quills, cauldrons—she’d salvaged them from the remnants of her own school days. The items are hardly first hand, but they’d do. Severus already knew enough that a few outdated books wouldn’t cause much trouble, anyway.

Gringotts, when they get there, has a line. Eileen moves to the back, her hand curling around Severus’ upper arm lest he run off to inspect a goblin. She pulls out their pouch of money with her spare hand, and watches as Severus stares around the building with wonder.

It’s almost heartbreakingly innocent.

No one pays them any mind as they wait, but the sound of a far too familiar voice makes Eileen stop mid-transaction. The goblin gives her an expectant look, and she shakes herself out of it, continues on. Keeps her head down.

It’s of no use. She knows when she’s been spotted—the voice trails off, and she can feel the heat of a gaze on her. As the goblin turns to retrieve her galleons, she knows what’s coming.

“Ellie?” Abraxas’ voice is surprised, and—

Ridiculous nickname, Eileen thinks. It doesn’t even _fit._

Still, she turns to face him. They’ve not seen each other in years, but he still looks the same, she thinks. Has the same blue-grey eyes, the same pale blond hair. It’s clipped short, just as it had been at school—nothing at all like that of the boy at his side.

 _His son_ , her mind supplies, and Eileen tightens her grip of Severus’ arm. Lucius has grown since the last time she’d seen him.

“Abraxas,” she says, and this is exactly why she hadn’t wanted to do this.

The decision to take Severus earlier than usual had been intentional. She’d told him it was to evade the back to school rush, and that was part of it, but she’d also wanted to avoid any run ins, any chance encounters. As much as she adores the magic that runs through her veins, there are things Eileen would prefer to forget, people she would be happy never to see again, and this—taking Severus here—it puts her right in the middle of where she doesn’t want to be.

It is just her luck, then, that Abraxas chose today to visit Diagon Alley.

She isn’t surprised when Abraxas bends to press his lips to her cheek, even now, even when she singlehandedly disgraced her family’s name. The manners—they’re bred into him, she thinks. And this—the two of them—it’s an old habit.

“It’s been a long time,” he says, and Eileen watches as his gaze drops to Severus. Abraxas’ boy is watching him, too, Eileen notes. There’s a faint sneer on his face, distaste at their obviously penurious state.

Typical of a Malfoy.

“I know.”

“Hogwarts?” Abraxas asks, inclining his head toward Severus, and Eileen knows that’s a cue for introductions. She nods, nudges Severus forward, and observes as they all introduce themselves. 

Watching Severus interact with Lucius is rather surreal. They both look hesitant, she thinks. Lucius more so than Severus, but the reluctance is quickly hidden by a sharp look from his father, and then the boy is indulging Severus with mindless chatter.

“How have you been?” Abraxas asks, and Eileen wishes he wouldn’t. Wishes they wouldn’t. Wishes they could pretend they never knew each other at all. It would be normal for Abraxas, after all. Malfoys don’t often interact with the disgraced.

“Good,” she lies, and she knows Abraxas knows she’s not telling the truth. “And you?”

Abraxas gives her a genetic account of the past few years—impersonal things; Lucius’ schooling, the Manor’s keeping, his old research—and Eileen hums when appropriate, impatiently waiting for the goblin to return.

Abraxas quiets when he finally does, and Eileen quickly finishes the transaction before stepping out of the line. Severus trails behind her, and when she looks, he and Lucius seem to be engaged in a far more thrilling conversation than their adult counterparts. There’s a look of genuine interest on Lucius’ face, his brow furrowed with light surprise—as if he hadn’t expected Severus to say whatever he’s saying.

“We really should get going,” Eileen tells Abraxas, pocketing her money. 

Abraxas nods, tilts his head toward the two children. “Perhaps they’ll be friends,” he says, and Eileen hums.

She supposes it will do Severus good if they are. A Malfoy’s favour did tend to be beneficial, and as a half-blood who’ll likely sort Slytherin, Eileen thinks Severus might need it. 

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” she says, and then she’s beckoning Severus forward again, is hastily offering a goodbye before starting toward the exit.

As they turn to leave, Eileen catches Lucius’ voice—curious and just a little suspicious as he asks his father what’s so special about Eileen, about Severus. Asks him why _they_ get a pass.

“We were at school together,” is what Eileen hears Abraxas say. “Friends, once.”

She and Severus pass through the doors of Gringotts, back out into the bustling street of Diagon Alley, and what Eileen doesn’t hear is the low rumble of Abraxas’ voice as he tells Lucius to _befriend that boy_. That, if Severus is half as talented as his mother once was, it’d be better to have him as a friend than an enemy.

“Who was that?” Severus asks, once they’re outside. His head is tilted back, his dark eyes fixed on her; an ever-present curiosity simmering beneath the surface.

“An old friend,” she tells him, and leaves it at that. “Now, come. Robes first.”

Severus looks as if he wants to ask more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he follows her through the crowd like she’d asked, his expression one of poorly concealed awe as he takes in as much as he can, and as they pass by the many stores, Eileen knows she’s in for a long afternoon.


End file.
